Nothing but the Shower
by the infamou5 c0pyc4t
Summary: From the Zero Division back home, Ichigo goes to the Unagiya Shop. Sensing that, once again, her employee is distraught, Ikumi takes it upon herself to revive him… even if it is during his shower. MA


**Nothing but the Shower**

Ichigo had shown up at the Unagiya Shop, dripping wet from the rain and looking down in the dumps. Ikumi could hardly be surprised; he often looked distraught when showing up at work or just plain visiting. True, this was one of the worst looks she'd seen on him – like he just had a bad break-up or was told that Christmas no longer existed – but she still wasn't about to coddle him.

"Why don't you take a shower?" Ikumi said, leading her soaking guest through the office and to her apartment. "You'll catch a cold in those wet clothes if you stay in them."

Ichigo said nothing. He wouldn't decline her offer. It was best for him if he allowed himself something comforting. Meekly, he thanked Ikumi for the offer and trudged towards the bathroom. Kaoru was asleep, so he wasn't going to have any run-ins with the brat.

Despite her shortcomings, Ikumi-san was a reliable woman. Ichigo pondered this as he took off his rain-heavy clothes and let them plop on the floor. It made him feel a little guilty about always trying to skip out on work, but then again, he'd pay for it with those ruthless kidnappings.

He had just taken off the last of his clothes – his boxers – when the door was suddenly opened; somewhat lucky for him, his back was facing the entrance, and Ikumi only saw his naked backside. Nonetheless, he hollered and covered his shame. "I-Ikumi-san!" he raged, red in the face for numerous reasons. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Quiet down," grumbled the single mother, shifting her weight to one side and giving him an irate glower. "I'm just taking your clothes to put them in the dryer." Without any sense of decorum or hesitation, she stooped down and began to collect the saturated clothes piled around Ichigo's feet.

Blabbering and staggering away from her – being none too comfortable around women when missing clothing were involved – he reprimanded her. "Don't just barge in like that! I could've handed them out to you! I'm _naked_, you-_oof!_" A slap from his wet underwear hit him in the face.

"I said quiet down!" Ikumi barked at him. "Kaoru is asleep. He'd get upset if he knew I was letting you use our bathroom. Besides, you don't have to be embarrassed; I have a son, and I've seen him naked before."

Still a little upset from the underwear-smack, Ichigo grumbled to her, "It's not the same thing." For one thing, they were not related; for another, there was a significant age/development difference between him and her smart-mouthed son. At least it was only his backside that she walked in on, he reasoned as Ikumi took her leave to toss his clothes in the dryer. He didn't know how much help it'd be to dry them, considering that he didn't know how long he was going to sulk here. Probably until Kaoru likely woke up and demanded that he leave. Ichigo's eye ticked; he could just imagine the little brat toddling out and throwing a fit upon seeing Ichigo in the home.

Well, there were other, more important problems that Ichigo would have to face soon; Kaoru was back to the bottom of his list. Soul Society in shambles, Renji going on without him through the Zero Division, another Vandenreich assault pending; and Ichigo was removed from it all because Zangetsu had shattered. Ouetsu Nimaiya had cast Ichigo out, refusing to fix the Zanpakutou of someone the Asauchi did not approve of.

When the water began to run over him, even as it started ice-cold, Ichigo bowed his head under the spray. He seethed with anger and humiliation, hitting his fist into the wall in front of him. His knuckles hurt, but he was numb. The turmoil within made even his worst wounds seem insignificant. How could he have been so easily sent away when he craved the power to protect more than anything?

"Dammit…!"

"What are you so upset about this time?"

Ichigo blinked and looked out the shower pane. He could vaguely make out the distorted form of Ikumi, leaning casually against the wall with her arms folded. How long had she been there? She must've come straight back in after putting his clothes away. "Ikumi-sa…"

Ikumi sighed heavily, dropping her head. "The only time you actually show up here, it's just to mope." She looked towards the shower stall. "For a kid, you act like you have the world resting on your shoulders."

If only she knew… If she knew his responsibilities, of his duty as a substitute Shinigami… She may have once told him to rely on adults more, but he couldn't do that when he was fighting for the lives of others. At least she tried to console him.

He smiled a little, a genuine gesture in response to Ikumi's concern. She may have been a backbreaking employer, but there was a thoughtful, motherly side to be found underneath her rough exterior. "Ikumi-san," he muttered, barely audible underneath the shower. "Thanks… for everything. And… I'm sorry about all of this…"

Ikumi stared at his silhouette. Such a gloomy atmosphere, like Ichigo was planning to head off to the horizon and never return. He may not have been the best worker – a slacker in her opinion – but he was of a good sort. Seeing him drag himself into the office, wet and devoid of life; it was pitiful, and she wouldn't want him to walk out in the same fashion…

Without much deliberation, she set her brown cap on the nearest towel rack, and then reached for the hem of her shirt.

With how quiet it had become, Ichigo thought that his boss had wandered out of the room. Had his unannounced apology awkwardly shied her away? Maybe it was a bit too caddy…

He wasn't given much time to think about Ikumi when the shower stall slid open. He couldn't believe it, even with his own eyes, when his boss – naked as a jaybird – walked in on him. Steam must've whistled from his ears; he felt like his head was boiling the second he took notice of her feminine attributes. He shrieked her name, pivoting and facing away from her; contrary to his embarrassing outburst, Ikumi casually closed the stall behind her. Ichigo's reaction was somewhat expected, but unnecessary. He should be modest when the girl was modest. She had stripped down completely naked with only her scrunchy still keeping her dark hair in a ponytail.

Grabbing Ichigo by the shoulder, she spun him around until she was pressing him back against the cool, tiled wall. The chill of it didn't really help fight the heat pumping through his veins. It proved a difficult – and ultimately impossible – task to ignore Ikumi's curvaceous figure; her slight incline didn't exactly discourage him from shamefully ogling her dangling breasts.

Let him have his eyeful, but Ikumi was determined to say what she had to say. "Instead of apologizing," she started, bringing Ichigo's focus back up to her eyes, "instead of moping all the time and dragging yourself to my doorstep like a lost puppy, try harder. It doesn't matter if you're lonely, depressed, or just feeling like crap; I'm here for you if you need a helping hand."

Ichigo blinked, a little dumbfounded by the sudden outpour. He would've felt touched but for one thing. "Ikumi-san…" He looked away and idly scratched his blushing cheek. "Couldn't you… have waited until I got out of the shower to tell me that? _Ack!_"

Ikumi followed up her initial head-butt with a second one to his chin, knocking him off balance and onto his ass; he griped into his hand how that hurt. She had felt like there was a lifting of the atmosphere until he had to ruin it! Putting her fists on her curvy hips, she scolded Ichigo, "Do you have to get upset over the trifles of it, Ichigo-chan?!"

It wasn't such a trifle. He would've pointed that out to her, but while reeling on the wet floor and looking up at her, using his voice became quite difficult. His throat was clenched as if by a fist, though he managed to make some incoherent noises when his vocal chords actually flexed. From this vantage point, much easier and clearly than before, he gawked at her pelvis. Her thighs were parted, not immodestly, but he was able to see every detail of her apex. His blush turned his whole body a light, glowing red, and a very particular part of him roused whether he wanted it to or not; his left knee was bent upward and slanted inward, so he wasn't at much risk of Ikumi noticing his primal lust, but for him to just know it was there because he was ogling his boss…

Ikumi looked down at him from over her breasts. She was certainly a bold woman to carelessly walk in on a younger man taking a shower; and then to flaunt her own nakedness as well! She had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed or timid about, boasting a figure that most mothers could only wish they could acquire. Kaoru had made her breasts swell when she gave birth, but she was naturally busty. And the baby fat was trimmed down quickly thanks to her rigorous work, leaving her abdomen attractively toned. She wasn't flashy, so she did not do anything more than keep the dark hair of her pubis partially trimmed. Long legs and dainty feet; she could've been a model if she had wanted to. Maybe with a bit of feminine-narcissism, she could admit to her physical beauty, but she was much fonder of her willpower and diligence.

She blinked when she observed Ichigo more closely. His leg had concealed it, but if she looked right down in that region, she could clearly see the tip of a mushroom-shaped object peeking out at her. To confirm what she believed it to be, she kicked Ichigo's leg away so that he was spread open for her to see. She had expected this reaction, but it was still was a bit of a surprise. With his aloof attitude, and her viewing him as an annoying little brother, Ikumi never really considered his sexual response.

Instead of a berating, scolding and beating, Ichigo was startled to the point where his heart skipped a beat when Ikumi smirked. It wasn't the devilish smirk she had when it was time to use force to make him do something, nor was it the type to mock. "Ichigo-chan, you are still a boy after all."

He couldn't be blamed! Bodies react of their own accord! He wanted to explain himself, but before he could blabber out the first word, Ikumi stepped over him. A foot was on either side of his waist, and he was dangerously close to her vagina; if he leaned forward just a little bit, his nose would be nuzzling her pubic hair. His eyes were drawn upward, bypassing her breasts – which was difficult – to make eye contact. "Ikumi-san…?"

"Shut up," she murmured sternly. She looked focused as she knelt down, bracing herself by holding Ichigo's shoulder and reaching beneath her with her free hand. It didn't take a genius to guess what she had in mind…

"What're you doing?" gasped Ichigo all the same right before his tip nestled against her crotch. The coarse fur around her slit prickled the sensitive head of his cock, brushing against them until Ikumi's hand caught and guided him. He choked and stammered on his own breath; it felt like his heart was lodged and beating in his throat, hardly allowing him to inhale. Her hips adjusted, and Ichigo found himself burrowing slowly between her tight folds.

She was much more ready for him than he would've first guessed – though he never in his wildest dreams he'd be voluntarily straddled by his boss. Truthfully, she had wandered into his fantasies every now and then, but it was never anything elaborate. He just imagined what she'd look like without her clothes – he could check that off the list now.

Aside from the shower water streaming down her body and making her smooth skin slippery, she was wet. As he was accepted into her at a slow crawl, her body lathered him up with her essence. With her tight warmth hugging him, he could not find the will to refuse her, resigned only to tilt his head back, close his eyes and tighten his fists, and hiss with pleasure. All other thoughts that had been troubling him had gone miles away, and his entire world had become nothing but this shower stall.

Ikumi worked her hips in a subtle screwing fashion, swishing from side to side until he was accommodated. She had successfully taken him entirely within her and was now seated on his lap. Taking him all the way in put small pressure against her uterus, but it wasn't intolerable; in no time, she fit neatly around him, a nice, tight vice of undulating muscle.

Ikumi groaned deeply. It'd been quite some time since the last time she felt the warmth of a man penetrating her. Both hands slid over and gripped Ichigo's strong shoulders. Her fingers tightened when she started rock back and forth. Nice and smooth and controlled; her experience showed. Her breath hitched a little when the orange-haired boy involuntarily thrust, meeting her cervix a little harder than she was expecting.

It was hard not to take matters into his own hands. Ichigo would have admitted to being a virgin until two minutes ago, so he hadn't grown the ability to stay cool under the pressure of sex. He needed to tread carefully, unsure of what Ikumi – or any woman – was comfortable with. Obviously her breasts were a crucial source of interest, but he wasn't about to suddenly scoop them up and maul them like a frenzied pervert. Their lure, however, was hard to resist.

Closing his eyes proved helpful, but the knowledge that they were still there, bouncing ever so slightly with her movements… He breathed raggedly, frequently opening his mouth to groan out loud. "Ikumi-san," he gasped desperately. He pawed at the smooth floor as though it would grant him some stability. His hips jerked. "I… _We…!_" He couldn't even begin to forge a sentence to declare how he felt. Heck, he was still scrambling to debate the morality of it all!

"Shut up," she told him again, this time in blissful meditation. As if sensing his anxiety, she curved a hand around to the back of his head and gently brought him forward, coddling him against her soft bosom. She held him close to her left breast, and he could faintly hear her accelerated heartbeat. Her rigid nipple poked against his cheek, near his mouth. It was tempting to turn his head just slightly so that he could latch onto the mother's breast, but he did not; her heartbeat was so soothing…

His arms circled her loosely around the waist. He wanted to keep her close so that he could continue nuzzling her breasts while she rode him with slow, timed thrusts.

Ikumi made several more practice runs on Ichigo's lap. Even when he pushed into her and bumped the back of her vagina, she kept her slow and tender rhythm. Little by little, the tempo of her movement began to pick up. She was not bouncing on and off him like a pro, but she hardly faltered in her stability. The strength and stamina of her legs afforded her the ability to ride Ichigo for a prolonged period before inevitably tiring. The stronger, quicker drive regressed to a languid pace that they could both enjoy while catching their breath and fortifying themselves.

Being a first-timer, Ichigo feared his completion was coming on too soon. Being pressed against Ikumi's breast wasn't helping him keep his restraint. His clenching jaw slackened, and he made a shuddering gasp that vaguely sounded like he was calling out her name. Both of her arms now hugged his head to her bosom, leaving it up to her hips to keep up the rocking motion.

Ichigo felt the tug of release in his groin. Ikumi's walls were collapsing about him, and though he did not know what that meant, he could guess that it was something of great significance. The hands around her waist drew up, his fingertips digging into her back as her muscles continued to flex around him. Raggedly, he moaned, pulling himself deeper into the valley of her breasts as she comfortingly stroked his hair.

He wanted to be louder, but she'd already warned him. It was such a chore to keep his voice in check! More than a few times, he came close to shouting, but luckily muffled himself in her bosoms before he could be loud enough to make echoing noises. The shower mostly overlapped the squishy clap of their bodies, and Ikumi seemed very partial to the silent motion of purely gyrating on his lap. When she did this, Ichigo knew it would be his downfall. Her breath was hitching above his ear. All he could do was employ his infamous stamina and hope to hold out to her satisfaction.

"Mama…"

Ikumi became tense; Ichigo felt it around him. "Crap," she cussed under her breath. The embrace she held Ichigo in became crushing, smothering him in her cleavage as if to hide him away from the world. The bathroom door opened; she hadn't thought to lock it. Luckily, the shower glass was obscuring; one would hardly be able to make out a silhouette through it.

"K-Kaoru-chan," Ikumi cooed as steadily as she could. "I thought you were in bed. What's the matter?" It would be the worst thing in the world if he decided that he wanted to share some bonding in the shower.

"I forgot to brush my teeth," drawled Kaoru, who was obviously half-asleep. A brat, he may have been in Ichigo's, but he was actually really devoted to the laws his mom had set in the house.

Ikumi's teeth clenched. Even if they were still, she could still feel the insistent throb of Ichigo inside of her compressing channel. Breathing was becoming an issue; she could tell by the way Ichigo was starting to flounder against her chest. A bone-crushing squeeze should sedate him. The arms that were once embracing her by the waist now receded to where only his hands were gripping her lovely hips; very tightly, she noticed with a wince, hoping that he wouldn't leave bruises.

With her full weight pressing down on his pelvis, Ichigo was reaching deeper than ever. She could almost feel the pre-cum sliding against the channel to her womb. Every thump of the embedded rod – which was warningly increasing – was like a rumble to her nerves. She hoped not to make a sound, but involuntarily, Ichigo's hips surged upward. Already deep, the head of his cock shoved hard at the end of Ikumi's hole.

"_Yah!_" A short and barely-caught yelp, but it was well heard over the gentle scrape of bristles on teeth.

"Mama?" Kaoru gurgled around his toothbrush. Barely above the shower, he heard her, stammering, saying that she almost slipped on some soap suds.

Ikumi was deeply-red as she stared at Ichigo. His eyes were glazed over with a look of satisfaction. She could feel the sticky dash of his seed flushing into her body. The almost-vulnerable look in her eyes solidified, and Ichigo – even hazed from a splendid orgasm – recognized the hard stare from his irked boss. Her surprisingly-heavy hand pressed down on the top of his skull, but she stalled the punishment.

Despite her angered expression, her voice remained motherly to continue the act for her son. "Kaoru-chan, why don't you hurry and go to bed?"

A loud spit later, Kaoru mumbled a goodnight. The door opened and closed, and once more, Ikumi and Ichigo were alone. It was then that Ikumi yanked Ichigo's hair back, exposing his throat as if to slit it. She leered maddeningly at him, her face hovering inches above him. "Ichigo, who do you think you are, _huh_? Doing _that_?"

"_Uh…_ I…" Clarity was flowing back to Ichigo, and he realized the consequences. He was rapidly deflating, almost slipping out of her saturated depths on his own. "I didn't…"

Ikumi stood up from his lap, giving him a very clear view of the evidence of his blunder; sticky white leaking out, staining her lips and black hair. She reached down and collected some, and after giving an offended look, she washed the semen off and took the showerhead from its holster to rinse herself down. Ichigo, on the other hand, sat in awkward repose. His eyes wandered the tub's floor, trying his best not to include any part of Ikumi in his sight. It'd be bad to gawk at her while she washed, right?

With a haughty scoff, the showerhead was returned to its designated holster. Ikumi closed her eyes, maintaining the air of a disappointed mother. "It's not like you can just walk out of here," she said to him. "Kaoru-chan sometimes has trouble going to sleep."

Ichigo watched her for a time, still out of breath. She turned to him, unabashedly giving him the full view of her supple sternum. Her hands passed so smoothly across her breasts, the flesh shifting as she washed underneath them. Her brown nipples were pert, hardened from the duality of water and arousal. He was perhaps hypnotized a bit too long, for when he realized that he was stuck gawking at her form, she'd already finished washing.

Ikumi opened the door of the stall. Halfway out, she looked back at Ichigo, and as if nothing had happened, said, "Your clothes are in the dryer, and I'll get something hot ready for you. Just don't take too long."

Ichigo just stared wide-eyed at her. She was so calm. Did she have some back-up? No answers to those questions would be given today. Ikumi hardly lasted in the bathroom for more than a minute. She dried off briskly, wrapped a towel around her, and headed out, leaving Ichigo alone with his thoughts. Quietly, he started to wash as Ikumi had told him. Everything before now was temporarily forgotten; the war with the Quincies, the hopelessness of the situation, his banishment from the Zero Division's base.

Right now, there was nothing but the shower…


End file.
